Today's story is from Alan Siegel, who was a sportswriter at The Eagle-Tribune in Lawrence, Mass., from 2005 to 2009.

In my four years at a suburban Boston paper, nothing made me feel smaller than covering the Red Sox. For 20 or so games a year, I parachuted in and tried to collect enough material for a column and a notebook. To the players, I was a gnat: barely noticeable and easily swatted away.

But being insignificant had its advantages.

While the big boys from the Globe and Herald rushed upstairs to the press box to file pregame updates, I usually was able to hang around the clubhouse until the access period ended. Sometimes, I caught somebody for a quick interview. On this afternoon in early April 2008, I was shit out of luck.

The Yankees were in town and players were scarce, save for a few pitchers sitting on the black leather couches assembled in the middle of the room. Manny Delcarmen was one, Clay Buchholz was another. Jonathan Papelbon, in practice gear, was around too, fiddling with the DVD player hooked up to a nearby flat-screen television. He was up to something, I could tell. When he popped in a disc he made a Bill Murray face. (If you've seen Papelbon's mound stare downs, you know it probably isn't easy for him to be deadpan.)

Curt Schilling once said of Papelbon in Sports Illustrated, "He's not exactly a charter member of Mensa," and many baseball fans would probably agree with the assessment. I prefer the characterization provided by Esquire's Chris Jones, who recently wrote, "Papelbon's not stupid. He just hasn't acquired professional mechanisms, an understanding of consequence: He says all the dumb things most of us probably think but keep back."

In other words, he's 16. So it shouldn't have surprised me when I noticed the Hustler Video logo pop up on the TV. It did, though. I figured I was seeing things. The title screen appeared. It looked like an SI swimsuit edition video, with lettering similar to the magazine's masthead. Oh, I though. Bikinis. This won't be too weird. Then the actresses came on screen.

Literally.

What I saw that day defied physics. It was fantastically filthy. From where I was standing, about 10 feet away, it looked like an open fire hydrant. In retrospect, I should've known. There's a reason they named the movie Squirts Illustrated.

(Can you imagine Papelbon asking a clubbie to make a porno run? Yeah, I need three tins of Skoal mint and the widescreen edition of Squirts Illustrated. Here's 100 bucks.)

It hadn't been on for more than a minute or two when, in a serendipitous moment, Theo Epstein and Terry Francona stepped out of the manager's office — just in time to catch their teenage reliever pulling a stunt Steve Stifler would've enjoyed. Francona managed a half smile. Epstein glowered. Sadly, I don't remember exactly what happened next. I don't know if someone pressed the stop button, or if Papelbon was scolded. I do remember that none of his teammates was laughing, which suggested to me that maybe this had happened before. And I remember, too, that the 10 or so reporters left in the clubhouse –- all male, at that point -– remained silent, as if watching video of a bursting human water main was the most normal thing in the world.

Finally, a writer, one of the nicest guys on the beat, smiled and shook his head. He'd clearly seen this act before, or at least some variation on it. He turned to the other scribes. "I'm out of here," he said, and we followed his lead.

Again, any sports journalist out there with a story to tell — print, online, broadcast — should send it along to darkside@deadspin.com. You know you've got a million of them.

Two things come to mind when I see this: One, who let Chris Mortensen fill in for the graphics intern? And two, West Virginia has a lousy offense. Look, I'm not against Bonds returning to the majors; I just wish he'd do it in a less confusing way.

Well, at least a portion of the graphic was correct.

This is Dead Week in the world of sports, and tensions are running high throughout the land. But that's no excuse for the boo-boo above. We'll keep you entertained the right way. Onward.

We have Papelbon Dirty Dancing, and performing in drag, all at a high school talent show. Also, Papelbon in a fashion show. The video (shown in its entirety here) was provided to Comcast's Gary Tanguay by Sheila Papelbon, Jon's mother. "Thanks ... my mother, folks."

The best part for me was Ortiz interviewing Papelbon following the presentation. Ortiz seems genuinely confounded by the exhibition, and a bit concerned, as if he will never fully unravel this mystery. I kind of feel the same way myself.

Jonathan Papelbon: The High School Years [Comcast Sports]
Dance-0 Ocho [Comcast Sports]
Papelbon Gets Down And Dirty [Extra Bases]

One of them gets the idea that the "moneyshot" picture should be shown to the players in the Red Sox bullpen. So he folds the picture and flicks it over the railing so that it lands in the steps of the bullpen. And that is when the party really started.Papelbon comes out of the dugout during the game holding the picture in his hand with a bemused face looking for the guy who threw the picture. The whole section starts buzzing with excitement and Papelbon and the "Hammer's" friend who threw the picture start talking to each other. I cannot hear what was said, but during the next half-inning break, Papelbon emerges. The section goes nuts again and this time Papelbon signals to the "Hammer" to get ready to catch a pitch, and he throws a baseball to the "Hammer". It was signed by the entire Red Sox bullpen, and they wrote "Thanks for the bullpen pics".

Jonathan Papelbon, a hero to the boorish and blasted of Red Sox Nation.

The Greatest Papelbon Story Ever Told [Roto-World]

When the Red Sox were in Detroit recently, a fan spotted Papelbon explaining the rules of craps to Hideki Okajima. The site, Out In Center Field, has a closeup of the complete board Papelbon draws out for Okajima and his translator, and even a video.

We always forget how rough life must be for a baseball player's translator. You must have to translate some seriously stupid shit.

High Rollers [Out In Center Field]

Sexson now just tossing helmets in disgust: Hours after the announcement came down from MLB that he would be served with a 6-game suspension for charging the mound oh-so-daintily Thursday against the Rangers, Richie Sexson did nothing to justify his appeal, going 0-for-4 in the Mariners' ninth loss in 10 games.

No offense to Papelbon, who's awfully likable. (For a Sox player, anyway. Sorry!) It's just that he's enough of a goof that he could be playing around with everybody.

Before the new revelations, catcher Jason Vartiek was last sighted with the ball. He said he gave it to Papelbon, who said he couldn't find it. Unfortunately, his dog, Boss, did:

"He jumped up one day on the counter and snatched it. He likes rawhide. He tore that thing to pieces."

If it's true, we can think of no better contrast — and look at why this title, in a way, might mean more to Red Sox Nation than 2004 did — than the fact that the first ball involved a struggle over history and money and ownership, and this one was eaten by Jonathan Papelbon's dog. You've earned it, Boston fans.

Red Sox World Series Ball Eaten By Jonathan Papelbon's Dog [Sports By Brooks]

We were fortunate in the League Championship Series this year; both the winning teams got to celebrate at home. Ryan Garko might or might not agree; clinching at home is more fun for everybody. The Red Sox never had the opportunity to do that in 2004; last night had been hard-earned and long-awaited.

We wrote last night that the Red Sox can just be a normal team now, that they don't have to have 100 years of history hanging over their head every night now. This is not a group of plucky underdogs; this is a team that, backs to the wall, blasted out an outstanding Indians team 30-5 in three games to return to the World Series. It might not make the best storyline, but who cares about storylines? It's the freaking World Series!

Natural History [Boston Globe]

Cleveland may rock, but the Red Sox have the Zing of Irish Spring!

Red Sox Dancefest [YouTube]

Henceforth, here's the local car commercial debut for Red Sox closer Jonathan Papelbon, who has sent Red Sox Nation into a full swooning tizzy. He's got all the right moves here. Awkward cue card readings. Inappropriate declarations. ("Oh, I found it!") Lack of conviction while using a laptop computer. (Surely Schilling could have given him some tips, yes?) Our favorite part is when he successfully tosses a baseball to himself while still talking up the glories of Humvees.

It's not quite the famous Clinton Portis/Lavar Arrington spots for Eastern Automotive Group, but it's entertaining nonetheless.

Jonathan Papelbon Commercial [125auto.com]
Redskins Surprisingly Effective Car Salesmen [Deadspin]

Via Game Four, here's "video" of the Red Sox-Blue Jays game yesterday, in which new Boston closer Jonathan Papelbon made his mother very sad by unveiling his new Major League-inspired mohawk.

Papelbon said the mohawk actually came from winning a bet with third baseman Kevin Youikilis, which makes us think that had Papelbon lost, he would have been forced to shoot himself in the face. By the way, does this mean Curt Schilling is the Corbin Bernsen character? Because we hope so.

Papelbon Sporting New Mohawk [MLB]
When Did Red Sox Sign Rick Vaughn? [Game Four]
At Least He Doesn't Worry About Bedhead [The Sports Pulse]